User blog comment:Bluestripe the Wild/Blood 'n Bullets/@comment-32303-20120214043415

A silent, lethal shadow by the name of Graitham moves nimbly through the branches of the trees, just at home in them as she is on the ground. The black squirrel's gold eyes turn ice-cold and her jaw sets in determination as she unslings her M16A1 rifle from her shoulder. She racks a round into the chamber, and holds the rifle ready to fire in gloved paws, thinking to herself, **You have a job to do, Graithe. You'll do it.** One claw presses to the trigger, but doesn't squeeze. . . . yet. She waits patientlyy and impassively for her prey, silent as a shadow,  tasting and smelling the air, taking in everything around her.